Life with Rex
by amber912
Summary: Every chapter of this literary work is a short separate story, reflecting Moser's everyday sweets and bitters. His hopes, his dreams, ties of friendship... Even his failures, because that's life. Life with Rex.
1. Autumnal Thoughts

Note: this is my first "Kommissar Rex" fanfic, based on Moser's POV.

Disclaimer: "Kommissar Rex" is owned by Mungo film, SAT.1 and ORF, or in other words – I don't own "Kommissar Rex". (But I wish I did…)

Story:** Autumnal Thoughts**

By _amber912_

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Autumn. I can hear the wind rushing outside. The windows are closed but I can see the curtains waving – it's obvious that the windows aren't hermetic. Well, what else I could expect of the house that is on lease… If I wasn't working double time at the office, maybe I would repair this house faster, but… The truth is – I really _don't_ have any time. To be straight, sometimes I get jealous when I spot Rex dozing blissfully during the work time. I wish I could do the same. All I can allow myself is to make coffee unnumbered times a day. A short break, and again – work, work, work. As soon as we solve one case, there is another in a row.

It may seem that I don't like my job, but it's not like that. It's quite opposite. Sometimes I get too tired, that's all. To be honest, I can't imagine a usual day without my colleagues – Stockinger, Hollerer, and of course Rex. Rex is like a guardian angel, saver from my sorrow. In a way we both helped each other to outlive the ills of life: these hard times when Rex lost his boss, and I lost…

_I lost_? I have no regrets – I'm doing perfectly without her. It was_ her_ who decided to divorce, and she knew what she was going to throw away. I have to confess that she has never missed me, never tried to make contact. The last time I heard from her was that damned day when she phoned to the office and informed that she was taking away _her_ furniture. (And apparently she had mistaken some with _mine_.) By the way, Stocki was the one to answer that call, not me. And Gina was lucky – if I had a chance, I would have cussed her out. And that would be the smoothest way to express my feelings – believe me, there was a period of time when I had been allergic to the words 'wife', 'divorce', and especially to the infamous name 'Gina'. My usual reaction to them was clenching fists upon the look for any cause that could let me pour out all the fury that I was repressing.

The past will never repeat itself – I'm glad that such a law exists. I don't feel like having willingness to relive anything from my past.

But during these rainy autumnal nights I always remember the worst and the most offensive things that have ever happened to me. My memory is like a certain time machine, carrying me back anew... against my will. And although during the 'journey' I could jump out of the machine, I have never tried: it seemed to me that by doing this I would definitely hurt myself.

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A/N: Should I continue?

P.S. I would be pleased if someone shows me the grammar mistakes of this story. Thanks!


	2. A Day Off

Hello! I'm back with another chapter of "Life with Rex". As you can see, I've changed the title (and the summary as well).

I would like to dedicate this chapter to _Leah Day_, the one and only reviewer (thus far).

Disclaimer: I don't own "Kommissar Rex".

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**A Day Off**

_(Moser's POV)_

That nice and peaceful Friday morning I decided to take a day off work. Sounds good? You'll see.

…As I was saying, I decided to take the day off, because I was thinking of repairing my newly rented house. The main task was to dye the walls in the living room. I could have painted them after hours, if I came home earlier, to wit _before_ the sunset. The candlelight was never suitable lighting for painting the walls, ceiling, or…anything else.

Anyway, if you want to dye anything, you need paint, right? There wasn't any at home. I thought that I could run in a supermarket when I would go for a walk with Rex… And so we left. The weather outside was wonderful. Although it had already been the end of September, the sun was shining brightly in the deep blue sky. I was in perfect mood. Abstracted, I successfully overlooked the first omen of forthcoming mess.

As we were wandering around a park, a black cat crossed my path – _twice_. It was the third time when that (or another) cat finally caught my attention by jumping from a tree right on my back. I had my suit torn apart and with that my spirits sank. Only Rex felt utter joy when he got three opportunities to play a barley-break. It seemed that he had been overwhelmed with hunting passion, since he ran after the third cat and never came back.

About ten minutes passed, and still – no sign of Rex. I finally quitted shouting his name and went on search. Worried, I was pacing by the direction where I saw Rex disappearing in the scrub. In the end of meadow I shouted again, "Rex!" This time it was pure luck that I got wind of barking somewhere at a distance. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Rex running towards me out of the nearby forest.

"Ah here you are, you prankster! I was worried about you. Hey, don't do it! Rex, stop! I said – "

In a moment I was knocked down; Rex was standing on my bosom and licking my face apologetically. "It's okay, now get off me," I muttered, trying to sound not too pleased at the fact that he had sprung up. Rex had obeyed to my command and was now standing nearby, fawning on me.

Already being on my feet, I took a notice at my suit, which looked more like a rag, after Rex had jumped on me with his muddy claws. Where on hell he could get so dirty? There hasn't been rain for weeks. Still thinking about the weather, I stripped the 'suit' down and stayed in my shirt.

Finding Rex had been the first and the last joyful event. Further troubles began when I had reached the supermarket. Searching for paint, I managed to assail myself with dozens of tin cans. The sound of them hitting the floor must have heard in the whole district. Reacting to the alarm, Rex hastily stormed into the shop and became the first member of a rescue party. He was joined by three shop-assistants and a band of concerned customers. When it occurred that I was fine (except for some bruises here and there) the crowd began to drift away. I took one can out of the pile on the floor and headed for cash-desk with Rex trailing behind. I can still remember the way that the cashier looked at me. He measured me with his eye like I was a sort of undesirable. Anyway, I didn't care – I was totally out of spirits. I paid for my purchase and hurriedly left the shop.

The air outside was stale and – for my surprise – the sky was beginning to cloud over. Undoubtedly there was going to rain. 'It's about time,' I cheered in my mind.

By the time we finally returned to the house, both had been drenched to the bone. During our walk I had changed my opinion about rain and had been pondering upon removing somewhere closer to the Torrid Zone.

I couldn't wait until it was time to begin the repair. Having changed the clothes and dried Rex, I dragged along the ladder, took the colouring roller and the action began. I had been on top of the world, but not for long though. Due to the nasty weather the twilight fell unexpectedly early. I had to turn those damned lights on. Expecting to finish it by the daylight, I became disappointed when I saw that I wouldn't make it. One free day wasn't enough for this job.

At 9 p.m. there were only a few dabs left. At that point the doorbell rang. Rex jumped up and headed to the door, barking. At first I had been surprised – who could come at this hour? Then suddenly I remembered that Stockinger had promised me to drop by after work (he _sure_ was interested in progress of the rehabilitation). Certainly it was him; Rex was whining and scratching the front door in recognition.

"Coming!" I shouted, getting down the ladder. At the very instant I noticed a spot on the wall overhead. Willing to blot it out, I climbed up again. The spot was far on the right, and a trial to reach it was my fatal mistake. I lost the balance and fell on the floor, spilling the rest of paint and toppling the ladder unbelievably loud. And what was more – I broke my leg.

That was the pinnacle of the day's misfortunes. Afterwards everything was tolerable; Stockinger had driven me to hospital, where I finally got analgesics – what a relief! I spent that night in a ward with a plaster-cast on my leg, wondering, how unpredictable life could be. If I had decided to work, then maybe the sequence of events would have been different. There was one more opportunity that came into my mind – perhaps there had been the lunar eclipse these days or something like that… Nah, what nonsense. This time it was no use of searching for guilty. That's too bad.

Later on the picture of Rex came to mind. What was he doing? I imagined him ravaging the food store in the refrigerator, and then standing by the window – his muzzle laid on the sill – and miserably staring at inky darkness…

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_amber912:_ Yay! Chapter 2 has been finished! _(There comes a sound of flourish at a distance. Closer… CLOSER…)_

By the way, this little scene is set right before the original part named "Deadly Teddies" ("Tödliche Teddys"). In that part Moser was with broken leg indeed. Max commented that he broke his leg falling from the ladder. So I got the idea of using these facts and wrote this story. Hope you liked it.

Please review and tell me what do you think of this chapter.


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